


Sugar?

by That_Ginger_004



Series: Bellarke One-Shots [16]
Category: The 100
Genre: Cause there totally needed to be a 'hot new neighbor AU', Cuties, F/M, Well - Freeform, another one, but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Ginger_004/pseuds/That_Ginger_004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So uh. In my bio it says that I'll be writing for more then one fandom. I am, I swear. I'm working on a couple of Merlin fics, but they're taking longer then expected. It's harder to write them, for some reason. So this is one I've been working on instead. i hope you like it, and as always, please leave a comment with any thoughts and/or improvements. Thanks for reading!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sugar?

**Author's Note:**

> So uh. In my bio it says that I'll be writing for more then one fandom. I am, I swear. I'm working on a couple of Merlin fics, but they're taking longer then expected. It's harder to write them, for some reason. So this is one I've been working on instead. i hope you like it, and as always, please leave a comment with any thoughts and/or improvements. Thanks for reading!

Bellamy is awake. Why, he isn’t sure. Well actually he is, but you know. What he isn’t sure of, is why someone would decide to move into a new house at seven thirty in the morning - it’s ludicrous. So anyway, he was awake. And it was Sunday. His day off. _So_ not fair. The person was clattering around on the landing, and he heard many loud thumps and clashes.

 

“Raven, I said here!”

 

“No, Clarke, you said here,”

 

“No, I’m sure I said here,”

 

“No you didn’t,”

 

“Oh. Well I need that there,”

 

He groans, and presses his face into his pillow. _They just don’t stop talking._ On the bright side, he had learnt the name(s) of his new neighbors - thank God for thin walls. Or, you know, don’t. Sighing, he stands up and stalks over to the couch, flopping down and turning on the TV. It’s not like he was going to be able to sleep again anyway.

 

“We’re being really loud,”

 

“We’re moving loads of heavy furniture, I’m sure it’s okay,”

 

_No. It’s not._

 

“Yeah but I don’t want to wake any of the neighbors,”

 

_Oh really? Should have thought about that_ before _you decided to move at a ridiculous hour._

 

“It’ll be fine,”

 

He turns up the volume, and slouches back. He’s awake now, so he might as well do something. Several hours later - long, tedious hours - the person seems to have finished and Bellamy is still sitting on the couch. He knows he should move, but it’s Sunday, and he’s so _tired,_ so he stays there, continuing his marathon. He should have known that the world was out to get him though - there had been silence for only ten minutes before there was a knock on his door.

 

“What?” he asks, flinging open his door - and _no_ he certainly did _not_ have a flair for the dramatic.

 

He finds himself face to face with a girl. She has blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, and wide blue eyes, and is possibly the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He suddenly becomes acutely aware that he’s only in his boxers, and leans against the door frame, trying not to look too smug when her eyes drift across his chest.

 

“Hi,” she says finally, and her voice is nothing like the preppy cheerleader voice he was expecting. She meets his eyes sturdily. “I’m Clarke Griffin, I just moved in next door, and I was gonna make cookies for everyone, but I ran out of sugar so I was wondering if you had any that I could use,”

 

“Bellamy Blake,” He raises an eyebrow. So this is his new neighbor? He could definitely cope with that. She’s nothing like the middle aged woman he was expecting. “Sugar? Yeah, I have some. Come in,”

 

He gestures to the door, and stands aside as she walks in. He saunters to his kitchen, and digs around in his pantry for the sugar.

 

“You know, most people don’t move to a new house ridiculously early in the morning,” he says - because, lets face it, it had to be said.

 

“Yeah, well most people don’t have completely absurd work hours either,” she snaps, and takes the sugar he offers.

 

“Couldn’t you ask for a day off? Like most normal people do?” he asks, and he thinks it’s an innocent question.

 

“No, I can’t.” she says, glaring at him. “Thanks for the sugar,”

 

So apparently it isn’t an innocent question. He stands there, dumbfounded, as she walks out and slams his door closed. _What the hell just happened?_

 

*****

 

Clarke taped a bag of cookies to his door later that day - or possibly the next day, he wasn’t sure. She had put a note along with it saying _‘Enjoy the cookies, jerk,’_ , and he decided that she officially irked him. All he did was ask one simple question, and now she hates him. Where’s the logic in that? The cookies, admittedly, were pretty damn good, but she’s still crazy. He met her in the corridor the other day, looking extremely flustered (he thought that he could make her flustered in a different way…), and speed walking towards the elevator. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, she glared at him, and then she was gone.

 

In fact, the few times he’d seen her, she had been rushing out. Or rushing home. There was one time, where she stepped out of the elevator only to get a call and step back into it. He figured it was for her work, but he didn’t want to ask. So he went about his day to day business, out to work at the diner on work days, then visiting Octavia on Saturdays (he told her all about Clarke, of course), and tried to forget about his hot new neighbor. But then he got shoved through that damn window, and everything changed.

 

He was leaving work when it happened - one moment he was standing there, talking to Murphy, the next, he was lying on the ground, surrounded by glass, with a particularly nasty piece of shrapnel buried in his stomach. There was people screaming around him, and his boss was running up to him to ask if he was okay and - _seriously? There was a freaking piece of glass embedded in his stomach, did it_ look _like he was okay?_ Jaha was assuring him that someone was calling an ambulance, and that it’d be okay, and; “God, Blake, what did you say?”. And he couldn’t do anything but lie there, lie there and try not to think about how much pain he was in when all he wanted to do was scream in agony, and then everything went blessedly black.

 

He faded in and out of consciousness a few times, enough to glimpse Octavia’s worried face, and her people shouting as he was being wheeled down a long corridor, and Clarke. Clarke, wearing a white coat with her golden hair tied back, yelling that she needed blood, stat, and “Idiot, now I have to operate on you,” when she saw he was awake, and all he could do was laugh because of-fucking-course she’s a doctor, what else? Then he was being sedated, and his life was in his neighbors hands. His hot neighbor. Who would have thought?

 

*****

 

When he woke up, Octavia was standing at the foot of his bed, arms crossed, and one eyebrow raised.

 

“What the hell were you thinking?” she asks him. “You _know_ Murphy has anger issues,”

 

“What, no ‘welcome back?’ No, ‘I’m glad you’re not dead’?” he mutters, attempting to sit up.

 

She rushes around when he hisses, and holds him down.

 

“Clarke said that you’re not to sit up,” she tells him. “And I’m still waiting for an answer,”

 

Sometimes, his little sister reminded him so much of their mother.

 

“I didn’t think he’d push me through a window,” he says as an explanation.

 

Octavia frowns. “They had to remove your spleen, Bellamy,”

 

“What? You’re joking,” he says, slightly in disbelief.

 

“I wish,” she snorts.

 

“Don’t they have to get permission for that?”

 

“Yeah they asked me,” she shrugs, and he thinks that this must be some kind of twisted dream of his.

 

_“You let them take out my spleen?”_

 

“It was a necessary precaution, Blake,” Clarke walks into the room, looking all professional with a clipboard in one hand. “I need to check your stitches,”

 

“Wha- _A necessary precaution?”_ he splutters indignantly.

 

“Yes, now hold still,” she walks over to him, placing the clipboard down.

 

Octavia laughs slightly. “I told you he’d freak,” she grins.

 

Bellamy glares at his sister, just as Clarke tugs his shirt up. Her hands flutter over his skin, unwrapping the bandage and inspecting the neat row of stitches there. He turns his gaze on her, and takes in the way her brow furrows and how her teeth capture her lower lip. Something warm pools in his abdomen, and he feels a slight pang of desire. Her hand skims over his hip as she withdraws, and he hisses slightly at the tingle of electricity that follows her touch. Immediately, she responds, looking up at him with worry clear in her eyes.

 

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” she asks, a slight touch of guilt in her voice.

 

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head - then he realises that he should probably pass it off as something to do with the wound. “It wasn’t you, it just hurts,”

 

_Wow, Bellamy. Good excuse. ‘It just hurts’. Real macho._

 

“Mm, it probably will for a while,” she says absently, picking up her clipboard again and scrawling something on it. “I can get you some stronger pain meds, if you’d like?”

 

“Sure,” he nods.

 

As Clarke leaves, Octavia looks over at him with a knowing look in her eyes.

 

“So she’s hot,” his sister says.

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy sighs wistfully.

 

“You’re gonna have a fun few weeks with her playing doctor,” she smirks.

 

“Shut up,” he mutters. “I don’t even like her,”

 

“Course you don’t,” Octavia says.

 

Clarke walks back into his room then, medication in hand. She looks slightly ethereal, paused in the doorway, with wisps of hair escaping from her tight bun, and the light from the corridor providing an eerie looking glow around her. _No,_ he thinks, _of course he doesn’t like her._

 

*****

 

As it turns out, Clarke saving his life was the turning point in their relationship. They became sort of friends after that, as spending a month in the hospital with only her visits to keep him company would do. The changing of his bandages became the highlight of his day soon enough, although he had to try as hard as he could to ignore the butterflies that would nest in his stomach when she skimmed her hands over his skin. It was very distracting.

 

So yeah. They became friends - because there are some things you can’t go through without bonding, and saving someone’s life is definitely one of them. Clarke wormed her way into his life slowly, but one glance at her steady figure told him that she was here to stay. And - strangely enough, he didn’t mind. She got on with Octavia like a house on fire, which was definitely a bonus.

 

He learnt so many things about her - she was fiercely protective of her friends; she was the youngest fully qualified doctor in the area (which explained why she was so touchy about her job); she had a cat called Wells after her childhood best friend who died after she couldn’t save him - she still had nightmares about that night; her best friend now is called Raven Reyes, and they became friends after being in a relationship with the same man (how that worked out, he had no idea); she’s never quite forgiven her mother after a fight they had months ago; she’s loyal almost to a fault; she’s strategic; maternal; caring; and God, she is the most selfless person he knows.

 

She’s just so _perfect_ it almost hurts, and every day that passes has him falling deeper and deeper in love with her. He can’t help it, really - she’s just so… Clarke. She’s everything he’s ever wanted wrapped up in one person.

 

“Bell! Stop!”

 

Oh - and she’s also extremely ticklish. Something he only found out recently, and has already taken advantage of far too many times - an excuse to have his hands all over her? Come on, he’s only human. He can only take so much.

 

“Nah,”

 

He runs his hand over her waist, chuckling slightly as she squirms.

 

“Stooop,” she whines, struggling to get out of his grasp. “I wanna keep watching Thranduil,”

 

They’re in the middle of marathoning the Hobbit movies - after this one they were going to go and watch the third, then get started on Lord of the Rings - and apparently, Clarke loves Lee Pace. She said he was ‘just perf’. (He’d just smiled, rolled his eyes, and pressed play.)

 

“Of course you do,” he laughs, but he stops, relinquishing his grip on her. She half rolled out of his arms slowly, almost hesitantly, before stopping, and settling back in a more comfortable position by his side. Her head rests on his chest, her hand curled into a fist below it.

 

“Start it,” she demands, tilting her head and grinning at him.

 

He presses play, and settles an arm around her. It feels like the most natural thing in the world - sitting here, holding Clarke - and he wished he could have it all the time. She was warm, and comforting against him, providing a sense of security that he’d not felt in a long time. It’s the fact that _she’d_ leant against _him_ (and that must mean that she liked him, right?) that spurs the thought that he should ask her. And so begins the war with himself - to ask, or not to ask?

 

“Hey,” he says after a while, deciding to just go for it. “You didn’t want to go get a coffee or something sometime?”

 

“Coffee?” she asks, looking up at him.

 

“Yeah,” he exhales heavily. This was a bad idea - why was he doing this again?

 

“Like a date?” she blinks.

 

He nods, biting his lip and staring at the couch cushion. He’s never really noticed that there was a blue strand in the pattern of it before - and never did he think that he’d find a couch pillow so interesting.

 

“Bellamy,”

 

One of her hands touches his face lightly, and he chances a glance at her. (She’s smiling.)

 

“I’d love that,” she says, and he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.

 

“Awesome,” he breathes, and she smiles again before going back to watching the movie.

 

He can’t stop grinning. He did it. He asked her out on a date. And she said yes. She said yes! On the screen, the dwarves are celebrating in Laketown, and it feels like a good representation of how he’s feeling right now. And - you know, he’s never been so glad of being woken up at seven thirty before. And he’s never been so thankful that he has sugar.

  
(He’s also never been so thankful for Murphy, and his stupid issues.)


End file.
